Musical numbers are also used to express the inexpressible. When Gene Kelly performs the title number in Singin’ in the Rain (1952), his voice and his body radiate pure joy. He has just fallen in love and the only way he can express these emotions is through song and dance. Therefore, the transition from the real world, where a rainy day is dreary and depressing, becomes a dream world, where the pouring rain is a delight. For most of its run, Glee has eschewed this type of musical number. Song choices may relate to the narrative, but performances are rarely used to bridge the gap between fantasy and reality (for more on Glee’s mishandling of some of the basic conventions of the musical genre, see Kelli Marshall’s insightful Flow article). Instead the show often functions as a kind of “Glee’s Follies,” that is, as a musical revue featuring unrelated performances that showcase the talents of each of its stars and sell singles on iTunes.

However “Grilled Cheesus” (a fantastic title) is one of the few Glee episodes to not only establish, but also to play with, the opposition between dream world and real world in the musical. For example, early in the episode, Mercedes tells the Glee club that she has been struggling to come up with something comforting to say to Kurt after his father is hospitalized: “Then I realized I don’t want to say it. I want to sing it” she explains. Mercedes then launches into a rendition of Whitney Houston’s “I Look to You,” which asks Kurt/the audience to believe in the ability of a higher power to comfort us in our suffering. The shot/reverse shot between Mercedes and Kurt at the conclusion of the number implies that Kurt has been moved (his eyes are filled with tears) and that he now “believes” in the dream world created by Mercedes’ performance. But instead, Kurt calls out the lie of the musical, telling Mercedes, “Your voice is stunning but I don’t believe in God.”

This scene thus pulls the audience into the dream world only to abruptly force us back out of it again. As Sue Sylvester notes, in a brutally honest argument for the case of atheism, “Asking someone to believe in a fantasy, however comforting, is an amoral thing to do.” Mercedes may have a beautiful voice, but Kurt should nevertheless be prepared for the possibility that his father will die.

Even Rachel’s schmaltzy version of “Papa, Can You Hear Me?” worked in this regard. The scene begins with Finn and Rachel sitting in the park at night. When Finn asks why they are outside, Rachel explains “Because I don’t want anything coming between us and God. And because Yentl was outside when she sang this song in the movie.” So while Rachel’s song is a musical prayer for Kurt’s father, it is also very much about Rachel’s desire to perform. The scene transitions from the dark outdoors to the bright interior of a hospital room, where we find Rachel singing to Kurt’s comatose father. Rachel’s passionate performance effectively transports the viewer into the dream world of song and faith. However, we are abruptly returned to reality when Rachel concludes her emotional song with“Who’s next?”

While I am prone to criticizing Glee, I think this episode worked as both an example of the musical’s primary theme—dream world versus real world—and as its critique. Yes, it is unrealistic that Kurt’s father wakes up from his coma at the conclusion of the episode. But the deus ex machina is not faith in God, but rather Kurt’s faith in his father.  The episode seems to be equating the former with fantasy and the latter with reality. And it’s hard to get too wrapped up in the dream world of the final number, “What If God Was One of Us,” when it is intercut with Finn contemplating, and then eating, his Grilled Cheesus.

Wow.  I’m just really a bit flabbergasted.  I feel like the “powers that Glee” (PTG) are really trying to combat complaints of minimal plot development.  After last week’s most excellent narrative-filled musical numbers, my hopes were high that they could maintain momentum this week.  It looked like they might be able to pull it off, but then it became Glee meets Friday Night Lights. Say it ain’t so!  Anyway, to me it seems as if they’re amid a generic struggle.  The musical—old school, at least—is not known for its riveting narrative development, but instead lets the music do its talking.  Last week worked just that way.  “Run, Joey, Run” and “Total Eclipse of the Heart” projected the show’s burgeoning love triangle through what it does best—dazzling video-esque numbers.  So, kudos PTG.

This week they almost scored with the same tactic.  They came ever so close to doing what musicals do well.  It looked as if the episode was really embracing the traditions of the genre.  “Jessie’s Girl” provided a fabulous mix of show-number and personal development soliloquy.  (And, come on, it’s “Jessie’s Girl.”  It made my day at least 5% better by its mere inclusion.)  The episode did an amazing job of using the duet (until they ruined it).  Secondary players took center and deftly blended musical integration and glee club performances.  Mercedes and Santana’s duet of “The Boy is Mine” melded a fierce narrative moment with classroom performance and then allowed the action to ultimately transcend the bounds of the song as the girls continued their catfight.  (It was a little bit Dreamgirls.)  Mercedes spontaneously joining Puck in “The Lady is a Tramp” was a touch of integrated perfection.  Kurt’s bookended solos—“Pink Houses” and “Rose’s (Kurt’s) Turn”—provided painfully poignant moments for a guy who has surely had some narrative high points, but doesn’t generally develop very far within the narrative.  I particularly liked the latter number (no offense, Mr. Mellencamp) and the lurky way his father appeared.  It felt very old school, when someone’s true feelings come through in the solo and a love interest happens upon the scene.  The following moments between father and son were heartbreaking, heartwarming, and all around fabulous.   (Equaling that extremely touching moment was Kurt asking Brittany, “what do boys’ lips taste like?”)

Then it happened.  TPG tried to kill the episode.  While they had been using musical integration beautifully to project inner turmoil and relational conflict to a level perhaps heretofore unaccomplished on the show, they went one step too far. They betrayed the old school version of the genre and went very special episode.  They tried to make the narrative go too far, too heartfelt, and well, just too weird.  Everyone knows what I mean. The plotline with the paralyzed ex-football player was just uncomfortable and exploitative, and by trying to fit him into the Glee format TPG created a giant, awkward, and offensive intrusion on an otherwise touching episode.  I’ll simply leave some questions here.  Why did we need that plotline?  Really, tonsillitis = total paralysis?  Was it supposed to be Rachel’s version of Sue’s sister?  Why did the poor guy have to be naked in the 2^nd scene?  Why is he the only guy not to have an overproduced voice (so he’s not only trapped in his damaged body, but he’s also trapped in his ill-sounding and unenhanced voice)? Why does Rachel not sound, act, or move like Rachel in that scene?  Did Lea just know how bad it was?  Why do they leave a nice group number (that almost allows you to forget how uncomfortable you just were) to return to the narrative-killing scene and the worst vocal stylings since early episodes of American Idol?  If they want us to pretend that the over-production is “real,” perhaps they shouldn’t point out that it isn’t.  Use your head, PTG!